by Jack Murphy
“Ja,” he replied after a long moment of thinking. “I believe so, but we may run out of equipment at some point. We’re going to have to make compromises with safety, especially because we will have to install two lines if we want to get both platoons up without waiting until next Christmas.”
“I’ll bring Kurt as well, since he has mountaineering experience. You’ll need all the hands you can get. Korgan will be in charge down here, getting the patrol base together. We’ll wake the boys up before dawn and get them moving.”
“Wait,” Nate said. “You want to come with us?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Have you ever done anything like this before?”
Deckard pointed up to the summit of the mountain. “You see that?” He then pointed back at the human anthill of Samruk mercenaries digging into the snow. “You see them?”
“Yeah,” Nate replied.
“No one has ever done anything like this before.”
Chapter 23
Nikita flung his tri-fold shovel into the snow and unzipped his jacket. He was overheating now, but as the sun sank behind the mountains, he knew that would be changing shortly. It added some extra motivation to the troops to get their defenses and sleeping areas dug out. Korgan was marching around with a notebook in hand, pointing to where machine gun positions were to be dug and indicating the general arrangement of the trenches.
The mercenaries had crawled into a draw between two spurs coming off the mountain where they would prepare their overnight patrol base. The recon and mountaineering team had already departed, and the Kazakh did not envy how their night would be going. They were crazy to even attempt the climb in the darkness as far as he was concerned.
The patrol base was shaped like an extended crow’s foot, with trenches being dug out in three directions and gun positions dug at each end to establish triangular, mutually supporting sectors of fire. The platoon CP, or control point, would be centrally located, as would the mortar pit. Putting their backs into it, and using the occasional ice axe, they cut through the snow and ice, carving out the trenches. Next, the men broke up into their individual squads to begin hollowing out shelters by tunneling under the snow from the trenches. Others worked to improve the gun positions, making sure that the gunners would have a good 18 inches of snow as a barrier to stop enemy rounds.
Meanwhile, Korgan assigned men to begin melting down water and refilling empty canteens and Camelbak bladders. Fedorchenko assigned two men to dig out the latrine and then began supervising the construction of individual shelters. The mercenaries lined their rucksacks and skis up outside the entrance to their shelter, squad by squad. Weapons were wrapped in a poncho and left even closer to the entrance so they could be quickly retrieved. Keeping their guns inside the warm shelters and then bringing them back out into the Arctic cold would result in “sweating,” causing weapons malfunctions. During the night, each squad would light a small fire inside their shelter to stay warm.
The patrol base was nearly done being constructed by the time the sun finally set. Korgan was working his men into the ground, knowing their task would be a hell of a lot harder at night. Nikita and the other three snipers crouched down and entered their shelter at last. They dug out their bunks in the side of the snow shelter to keep them above the floor. Otherwise, they risked carbon monoxide poisoning.
Brian, the American and former Ranger, and Aslan carried out the remaining snow in their ponchos. Finally, the four men sat around a small gas-burning MSR stove drinking water and eating MREs. The four snipers were already dozing when someone yelled inside their shelter. Their heads bobbed up and down like a slinky going end over end down a flight of stairs as they woke up.
“Guard duty!”
* * *
When the sun went down, the temperature dropped rapidly. The six-man mountaineering team pulled their hoods down tight against their heads and did their best to keep moving, more of an attempt to stay warm than anything. Nate trudged through the knee-deep snow as the incline got steeper and steeper. Wearing assault snowshoes, he was running a line up through the snow for the main body to use in the morning. Using his ice axe as a cane, he pulled and pushed his way forward. Behind Nate, Kurt dug small pickets into the snow and then attached the rope Nate was running into the pickets with carabiners.
As the slope became steeper, it turned into a sheer sheet of ice. Deckard volunteered to take the lead, knowing he could handle this portion of the climb. As they went vertical, he would have to turn the lead over to the more experienced climbers. Using one ice axe and one ice tool specially made for ice climbing, Deckard utilized what was called the American technique to scale the ice, having traded out his snowshoes for crampons. He kept his lead foot pointed forward and the trail foot perpendicular to the mountain. This allowed him to compromise between his speed up the slope and not completely exhausting his legs, as he was able to distribute his weight between his calf muscle and thigh.
Wind howled down the mountain, cutting through Deckard’s parka. He hadn’t experienced anything like this, not even in Afghanistan. The only element going in their favor was good illumination. The mountain rose up in front of him like a demon. It lurched over him, watching and waiting. A gust pushed Deckard back, threatening to topple him over and send him sliding. Swinging his ice axe overhand, he slammed it into the ice to regain his composure. Deckard’s breath came in short gasps, each one freezing behind the mask he wore over his face.
Behind him, he could see his teammates shuffling in the dark. The sound of their ice tools and crampons came to him in dull tones, proof that they were still there. The sound of metal on ice offered him some security, maybe a false sense of it, like the Kalashnikov slung over his shoulder. Kurt continued to secure the rope at odd intervals by installing ice screws with the pick of his ice tool, turning them into the hard ice where they would freeze overnight. A carabiner would marry up the rope to the metal eyelet at the end of the ice screws.
Finally, Deckard reached a point where the mountain went vertical. He had been scaling an incline steep enough that he was touching ice when standing straight up and reaching out with one hand. Now they were going up at a 90-degree angle.
Dag broke ranks and climbed up beside Deckard to begin preparing his equipment. Adjusting his harness, Dag lit up his headlamp and started clipping gear to his rack for the climb. This included ice screws, ice hooks, his ice tools, carabiners, and nylon tubing for creating additional anchors. His Kalashnikov was slung over the top of all of it. They were the lead element, and there was an expectation of enemy contact at some point.
The Norwegian looked up at the frozen waterfall. Due to the plasticity of the ice, he had estimated that climbing the waterfall would be easier than attempting to scale older ice and inverted cliffs elsewhere. Swinging his ice tools into the ice, he monkey-hung from the ice, jamming his crampons in before beginning to climb. Bringing a tool down on the ice with his arm at maximum extension, Dag would then bring his feet up until he was in a vertical crouch, then stand up and repeat the process.
The five mercenaries at the bottom watched in awe as the former FSK soldier glided up the ice with his headlamp leading the way. Dag showed them how to get it done. Thirty meters up the ice, he paused to install the first ice screw. Taking a deep breath, Jacob was the next to follow Dag’s lead up the frozen waterfall.
As he climbed, Dag was forced to take an irregular route. Going straight up was out of the question as rocks, hanging stalactites of ice, and impossible overhangs obstructed the way. Some of them he could traverse, but the rest of Samruk International was not as experienced as he was. For their sake, it would require a twisting route far easier for the others to climb. Using the rope and ascenders, their climb would be a piece of cake by comparison.
After installing his fourth ice screw, Dag began climbing laterally to go around an overhang. Once clear of the overhead obstacle, he screwed in another piece of gear and continued back up. Eventually, he found a solid pil
lar of ice as big around as a redwood tree. The pillar was the result of ice melting each morning and dripping down an icicle until it created a stalagmite at the bottom when the water froze again in the night. Eventually, the two joined into a solid pillar.
Dag worked for hours in the dark and freezing cold. His muscles froze, then were covered in slimy sweat under his jacket. Finally, his biceps and quads began turning to jelly, his every move labored as he hauled his body weight and equipment up the ice pillar, one swing at a time. Looking up, he spotted a large patch of cauliflower ice beneath a ledge and aimed for it. True to its name, the patch looked like giant white puffs belonging to the vegetable. Ignoring the pain in his muscles and strain in his back, he didn’t stop until he reached the cauliflower formation.
The ice formation created large footholds; he could even lean up against the slope while standing on the ice and try to take a rest. Taking a few deep breaths, he used the hammer head on the back of his ice pick to pound in a few ice anchors to which he secured the safety rope.
“You OK up there?” Kurt hollered up from below.
“Yeah,” Dag panted between breaths. “Almost to the ledge.”
Scrambling up the ice formation, Dag slugged it out the rest of the way up. Ironically, getting over the ledge was perhaps the most difficult part of the climb. It was awkward scooting his ass end up as high as he could on the ledge while leaning forward with both of his axes over the top, his arms extended. Finally, he grunted over the lip. He didn’t even want to look up. He was only halfway up the side of the mountain.
While the others continued their climb, he found a rocky outcropping to use as an anchor. He secured the rope around it and then finally took a rest. It felt as if his overheated body instantly froze. His joints locked up and became stiff. More than anything, he just wanted to lie down and go to sleep. The other five mercenaries muscled their way up and nearly collapsed as well.
“Drink some water,” Nate mumbled against the cold. “You have to force yourself.”
Ice cracked along the back of their pants and parkas, falling at their feet as they reached for insulated canteens and Camelbaks, trying to stay hydrated.
The next leg of the climb was not as technical. Jacob led the patrol and took them on a winding path between some snow-covered boulders. A narrow ledge then led the way up. Finding cracks between the rock, he inserted spring-loaded camming devices to which they would secure their rope. Eventually, they were bouldering, moving hand over hand laterally along the edge, heading toward a place Jacob had spotted in which they could walk up rather than climb.
The Dane’s hands were numb, his face raw from his breath freezing against it. The harder he pushed himself, the more he just felt like lying down. Reaching for a protrusion in the rock, he slipped. The mercenary was airborne for a terrifying second until the safety line jolted him to a halt as it caught against the last anchor. The wind was knocked out of him as he slammed against the rock face.
Slowly, he moved his arms and legs, forcing them to function. He had to use his ice axes against the cold rock to climb back up while the others watched. Minutes seemed like hours, his every movement done in slow motion. Nate reached down and grabbed him by the sleeve, tugging him back up. With the feeling in his hands and feet long gone, Jacob shuffled along the rocks until they came to another snowy embankment.
The Dane collapsed to his knees. Nate came in just behind him and sat down. They had been running on fumes an hour ago. Now the tank was empty.
“Come on,” Deckard said as he shook Jacob awake. “We’re not going to make it to the top tonight. We need to find a place to take shelter.”
Deckard secured their latest safety line to another boulder, then pulled out a new rope. He went from trooper to trooper making sure they were all secured to it before leading the way. The mercenary commander put on a good show, but the truth was that he was just as smoked as the rest of them. He just needed to make sure his team survived the night.
A fresh gust of wind nearly blew the six men right off their feet.
Deckard gritted his teeth.
The mountain was going to have a say in their survival.
Chapter 24
The landscape froze, then melted, a single drop of water dripping down the side of a lonely cliff face. Snow fell, then collapsed down, flattened out by the the sun, only to begin drifting down from the sky again hours later. The glacier moved, too slowly for human observation to notice. What appeared static was constantly in a state of flux. Even the barren desolation of the Arctic contained a hint of life, even if it was desperate and barely hanging on underneath a rock, waiting for spring.
A fist punched up through the snow to the surface.
The surrounding snow collapsed as the fist was withdrawn and a human figure emerged on the side of the mountain. Deckard reached up and pulled his hood down, using the cold air to force himself awake. It had been a long night, but he was alive. Alive and pissed.
Pulling out his MBITR radio, he walked to the edge of the mountain. Using FM signals, the radio operated by line of sight. Having the high ground did him little good in this case, but he hoped he would be able to make contact with the main body.
“Any station on this net, this is Six, over,” he said into the main mic.
Static was the only reply.
“Any station on this net, come in, over.”
More static.
Backing away from the ledge, the radio came to life.
“Six—” the voice cut out as fast as it appeared, replaced by a gurgle of static. “No...over...jammed.”
Their net was being jammed; he got that much.
“En route...hours...”
“Say again, what is your ETA?” Deckard asked.
“Thr...rs.”
“Three hours,” Deckard said to himself.
More half-frozen bodies emerged from the snow shelter. Kurt, Dag, Jacob, Nate, and Maurizio shook out their arms and legs. Dag started doing jumping jacks to try to warm himself up.
“I got someone over the net,” Deckard announced. “They are about three hours out. The net is fucked, though. They’re jamming us again.”
“Radio batteries are heavy anyway,” Jacob said. “Good to know there isn’t any point in carrying them!”
The team took a quick inventory of their remaining gear before plowing through the snow to the summit. Thankfully, it plateaued out toward the top, where they donned their snowshoes. Struggling to blaze a path through the snow was still easier than hanging on to the side of an ice wall by their crampons. It took an an hour and a half, but they made it.
A valley spread out in front of them as they looked into the morning light. More snow. More ice. Going on straight into forever. The only movement below was a trio of white wolves stalking the tundra.
Deckard had done some map reconnaissance, and had been banking on there being at least one route down the opposite side of the mountain that could be traversed on skis. To his satisfaction, there looked to be several. Now they had to wait for the others to arrive, and hope that he was right about being able to intercept the enemy. He sighted through a pair of binoculars. There did not appear to be any sign of the enemy’s passage.
They too had to deal with the arctic night.
“Got something,” Nate announced as he looked through his own pair of binoculars. “Movement up on that mountain on the other side of the valley.”
Deckard squinted behind his goggles.
“How can you even see anything that far?”
“Way too much time squatting in a spider hole in Afghanistan, boss.”
Deckard scoured the mountain opposite to them. It took a minute, but he picked up several black specks moving across the ridge of the mountain.
“Who the hell is that?” Nate asked.
“More importantly, which side are they on?”
“Not ours, I imagine,” Dag said, clearly not feeling a positive vibe.
“OK, Dag and Kurt, you head back to rec
eive the main body when they arrive. The rest of us will look for some better cover and concealment to keep eyes on the valley. Make sure you get some food in you, too.”
Despite the main body leaving their patrol base and starting their ascent before dawn, it still took all morning to get the platoons up the side of the mountain. The mountaineer team was grateful for the rest and spent the morning alternating on watch from the summit of the mountain and warming themselves in the sun while chowing down on military rations and protein bars.
The sun was high in the sky, the wind still biting at their cheeks when Jacob called out, “I’ve got something here.”
Deckard lay down in the prone next to him.
“What is it?”
“Movement along the military crest of the mountain.”
The military crest was Army jargon meaning they were moving on a path halfway up the side of the mountain. Deckard looked down the slope and to his nine o’clock.
“Yes, I see them.”
“Maybe a scout patrol?”
Deckard scanned some more, but had a hard time making out details as they were still a few kilometers away. The enemy wore overwhites to blend in with the snow, and their Israeli bullpup rifles had been spray-painted white as near as Deckard could tell.
“I think so,” Deckard finally replied to Jacob. “Maybe ten of them. They are an advance element, just like we are.”
“Let them pass and then ambush the main force?”
“Not enough time. I don’t think our guys will arrive here in time for us to have even a minimum force. The enemy is about 100 strong, outnumbering us by a third to begin with. If we attack before all of our boys are up here, we will be mowed down like grass.”
“Delay them instead, then,” the former Jaeger Corps soldier concluded.
“Exactly. But we are going to need—”
“Deck.” Kurt waded toward him through the snow. “Fedorchenko just arrived with the first of his men. The rest are coming up behind him slowly, with Korgan pushing them up from the rear.”
